


Anatomy of a Home

by Falling April (ordinarygirl)



Series: Dented Plaster [1]
Category: Rent
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-03
Updated: 2007-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 20:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ordinarygirl/pseuds/Falling%20April
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny comes to visit Roger and Maureen in the loft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anatomy of a Home

**Author's Note:**

> This claim, Dented Plaster, is a RENT-verse that Alex and I have, where Roger and Maureen are/were/are together. (It depends on what part of their lives you're looking at. They're together until about two years before RENT, then they're not, then they're together again about six or seven months after.) It's confusing, but I'm sure y'all can deal with it. This story takes place about... 5 1/2 or 6 years after RENT.

Something about the loft was different, Benny thought as he stood in the doorway. And it wasn't the most obvious things - the rope that hung just above his head, tracing a path from one of the bedrooms to the kitchen, 'living room', and bathroom; or the brightly colored electrician's tape everywhere, marking where things went, and where nothing should be placed. It wasn't even the less obvious tidyness that seemed so out of character given the occupants. It was something else, something he couldn't put his finger on.

"Hello?" he called tentatively.

"Hey, Benny!" a man's voice came from the bedroom the rope path led from. "Gimme a sec and I'll be out."

"Okay." Benny took a couple more steps inside and waited. A moment later, Roger appeared in the doorway. "Hey, man." Benny said, and Roger's eyes focused somewhere over Benny's left shoulder.

"Hey, how you doing, Mr. Real Estate?" Roger grinned, and Benny couldn't help but return it, despite everything.

"I'm doing just fine, thanks. Kicked a bunch of orphans out of their orphanage last week, and left a handful of widows to fend for themselves." he joked. "And how're you, Mr. Rockstar?" he asked. Roger's face darkened a bit, and Benny immediately regretted his wording. "Rog, I'm sorry." he said softly. "I wasn't-"

"No, it's okay." Roger cut him off quickly. "I'm still writing and playing. It's just a little harder is all." he shrugged and raised his hand, feeling around until he found the rope, then started walking to the kitchen, his fingers trailing lightly along the rope path. He stopped directly in the middle of the kitchen area, in front of the fridge, and Benny noticed a knot in the rope where he'd stopped - how he knew _where_ to stop. "You want something to drink?"

"Um... sure." Benny said, a bit surprised. "Coke?"

"Sure thing. Stand on the red X." Roger opened the fridge, and Benny watched as Roger let his fingertips drag over beer, root beer, and sprite before grabbing two cokes. "Heads up!" he called, and tossed one of them in the air. Benny - standing, as directed, on the red X - caught it easily, shocked at the accuracy. Roger grinned at his throat. "Took me a couple of weeks practicing, but I've got it down."

"Very nice." Benny said, thinking that six months ago, he wouldn't have had to stand in a pre-determined spot. Taking his cue from Roger, who'd expertly followed the rope path to sit in the chair he usually claimed, Benny flopped down on the couch, waiting a bit to open his soda so it wouldn't explode. "How long have the ropes been up?" he asked.

"About a month." Roger answered, reaching out and finding the table before setting his soda down on it. "It took Mark and Norbert almost a week to get it rigged up, though." he added with a grin. Benny laughed. "How's Muffy and the brat?" he asked, none of the hostility of old in his voice when he used the nickname they'd given Benny's wife years ago.

"Ali's fine." he said with a fond smile. "Oh, and Andrew's birthday is next week, I wanted to know if you guys could come."

"God, it is?" Roger raised his eyebrows. "How old's the runt gonna be?"

"Three, if you can believe it." Benny sighed. Roger gave a low whistle. "Yeah, I know."

"Jeesh, how'd he get that old?" Roger asked, shocked.

"I don't know." Benny admitted. "Anyway, how _is_ the Drama Queen?" Roger broke into a huge grin, and Benny smiled wryly - you'd think they were just back from their honeymoon, most of the time, not that they'd been married over 5 years.

"She's great." Roger replied, sipping his Coke. "In fact..." he trailed off, head tilted, listening. "Speak of the devil and she shall appear!" he said loudly.

"You'd better not be talking about _me_, Roger Davis." an amused woman's voice came from behind Benny. He turned and smiled at Roger's 'blushing' bride, standing for an obligitory hug. "Hey, Benny, where've you been?" she asked, hugging him tightly.

"Hey, Maureen." he laughed. "I've been working my ass off, like the Yuppie Scum I am."

"Well, it's good to see you." she said, kissing his cheek before taking a sip of Roger's soda and settling into Roger's lap. "Hey, baby."

"It's about time you got home." Roger said mock-sternly. "I need my dinner cooked and my house cleaned and my laundry pressed!" Maureen laughed brightly, and Benny suddenly realized what was different about the loft. It was something he'd only just noticed in his _own_ apartment, something he probably wouldn't noticed in the loft _ever_, except that it had been nearly a year since he'd gone to the Loft, instead of the loftmates meeting him or going to _his_ apartment.

The loft had become a _home_. It wasn't a crash pad anymore, like it had been at first, or even just a place where three (or six, or two) best friends were living until they hit it big and could get someplace better. It was a home, someplace where a family had decided to settle down. It wasn't the neatness that made it feel that way - that was just an unavoidable effect of Roger's blindness. No, it would've felt like a home even messy as hell, and the signs of it were everywhere, easily overlooked if you weren't _looking_: framed pictures on the walls, windows that had (apparently) been half-heartedly cleaned, a vase of flowers on the counter (even if the 'vase' was just a glass of water), right down to the fact that the dishes in the sink were no longer mismatched. It was a home, _their_ home, Mark and Maureen and Roger's. For the first time in his life, Benny actually felt like a _visitor_ in the loft, instead of a lost, misplaced, exiled, and/or temporarily removed roommate. Looking around, watching Maureen curl up and rest her head on Roger's chest, feeling the absolute _love_ that permeated this place, Benny almost wished this could feel like _his_ home again, that _he_ could belong here, too.

"So, what brings you to our humble abode?" Maureen asked, and Benny was snapped out of his thoughts.

"Oh, well, Andrew's birthday is next week..."


End file.
